


Art Exhibit

by JustLetMeGo_In



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, I repeat, M/M, Where am I, are ya winning son, big sad, comfort characters are gone, do give it a cute lil listen, don't know bout that one chief, if you don't cry just know that i did, the light has left the building, the light is out, this is inspired by a song, truly a pity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 21:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustLetMeGo_In/pseuds/JustLetMeGo_In
Summary: Life after death is something we selfishly try to avoid. However, there is life after death for those who have passed, and life after death for those who were close with the dead.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 5
Kudos: 14





	Art Exhibit

Choking on my tears, I couldn't ignore the monotonous tone. It on repeat; a constant reminder.

Hopelessly, I watched the green line move across the screen with no docks.

I knew there was no way I could help, or anything they could do. Yet in a panic, I still called for them.

Doctors, brushing my pleads off, rushed into the room, defibrillators in hand. I had assumed they were already notified by the way they ran through the halls.

Mercilessly, one of the nurses ushered me out of the room with no regard for my opinion.

The door slammed before I could scramble my way back inside. Leaving me on the other side, shouting.

Thrusting my fist onto the window in a truly frustrated fit.

I had no idea why I was so angered with them.

They were just carrying out their jobs.

Aware of this, I continued to kick at the door.

Not equipped with the necessary clothing for destroying a door, the pain in my hand inclined me to stop the action.

Taking a stride backwards, I stood in front of the door.

_No._

_Don't take him away from me._

Suddenly, one of what I assumed was security latched their arms over my own, restricting me from the freedom of operating them.

I freely allowed them to escort me out with the acceptance that I had proven to be useless.

Left alone in the waiting room on what had started out as a nice weekend, folded in a ball on a chair that had long grown uncomfortable was I.

I stared at the mirror angled at me from across the room.

Thoughts of how my appearance was didn't seem to cross my mind until I saw my reflection.

Truly frayed and beat looking, I resembled what my interpretation of the living dead looked like.

It didn't matter to me, however.

If my outward appearance mirrored the deathly feeling I felt on the inside, I would be blessed.

Maybe with that I'd be able to avoid people's unwanted attention with better luck.

I had expected less judgmental stares from people in a waiting room, just as I was. Mistaken, their gazes bit deep into my soul.

A boy with a cast on his arm staring at me.

An older looking woman on an oxygen tank looking down on me.

Smokers.

Drug abusers.

Alcoholics.

Narcissistically, all judging me.

_For what? My appearance?_

My name being called, I dazedly looked in the direction of the vocalist. They waved their papers at me as a gesture to follow them.

Everyone waiting in the rooms’ eyes followed me as I warily walked through the door.

With a welcoming smile, the doctor gestured to the chair next to his own.

Knowing what was to come, I apprehensively took a seat.

“I'm sorry for your loss.”

I had prepared myself for these words.

Echoing in my mind, persistently I had to remind myself that I knew the situation.

There was nothing I could do about it.

But hearing them in the present and not hypothetically pained me much more than I had counted on.

Finding my breath running scarce while my chest tightened, I pinched my arm to pull back my grasp on reality.

As much as I wanted to sincerely thank the doctor for his hard work, I couldn't. I couldn't look this person in the face.

I didn't want them to see me as I was now. I didn't want to be here.

Alone for the first time in eleven years.

Terribly stumbling over the words, I quickly choked out, “Th-Thank you for telling me.”

Out of courtesy, and my own morals, I wanted to give this person thanks for their hard work.

I wanted to.

Shamefully, I couldn't bring myself to be thankful for anything they did.

Unbelievably cheerful for someone who has to carry the burden of guilt, they handed me his paperwork and shook hands with me. “Get some rest! I know this is rough for you.”

_Do you really?_

_Have you ever lost anyone dear to you in such a horrid manner?_

Vulgar as my thoughts were, I silently nodded my head and let them lead me out of the building and to my car.

With the doctor still standing by my side, I grabbed the key and unlocked it, leaving the door open while I seated myself.

Significantly more remorseful than before, the doctor gave me his advice. “Take your time in recovery.”

I swallowed down any contemptuous comments. “Y-Yeah. Thanks.”

I slammed the door shut and blanked out at the sight of my damaged steering wheel.

Closing my eyes, I kept my breathing steady and calm.

_…_

Knocking on my car window startled me awake.

Frantically, I rushed to start the car and roll the window down, failing to look at the person who stood there before I took action.

Once my window was rolled down, I noticed it was a worker in a bright green vest.

“Yes?” I asked, cringing at the sound of my croaky voice.

Leaning down, the worker folded his arms and perched them on my car. “Hello, sir. We've noticed this car has been parked here for longer than 24 hours. I'd like to ask you to move so other patients who are in more of an urgent need can park here as well.” He pointed to an extra area in the back. “There's an area for long-term parking over there.”

I shook my head, waving my hands. “No no, I was just planning on going home, actually.”

“Ah! Well then I guess this was meant to be, huh?” He chuckled, pushing himself off the door.

“Yeah, sure,” I muttered, shifting the gear and pressing on the brake.

“Drive safe.”

“You too.”

Realizing what I said, I slapped myself on the wrist mentally for instinctively mumbling that.

…

Arriving at my seemingly empty house, I sat in the car for a little while longer, tapping on the steering wheel.

_I don't want to be reminded of him._

_I don't want to let go yet._

Once again shocking me out of my own pitiful thoughts was a random sound.

Reluctantly, I looked in the direction of the sound. Lit up and ringing, the culprit was found to be my phone.

Hastily, I unbuckled my seatbelt, reaching over the dashboard and grabbing my phone. Hesitating on answering once I processed whose caller ID it was, I declined the call.

_I'll tell them later._

Tossing it on to the passenger seat, I leaned back and sighed.

Slowly growing brighter, the phone began to continue the tiring ringing again.

“You _would_ call back.”

I stepped out of the car, leaving the phone in the car barrier. Planning on explaining what happened at a later time.

I had naïvly presumed they'd be fine with that; they weren't the type to cause a fuss.

Climbing up the few doorsteps, I stopped once I reached the entrance.

It pained me to see the lights unlit. Especially the office room, where he would spend the majority of his time, painting.

Peering into the room, I recalled all the times we argued when he'd leave me to go work on some pointless artsy ambition.

As if you could make a fortune on something that was based completely on luck, connections, and motivation.

In spite of my unnerving accusations, he'd still religiously work on every single piece.

And no matter how much I resented him for leaving me behind to work on those pieces, I admired them dearly.

I reached my hand out and turned the knob, shocked when it let me turn. “Damnit, he didn't lock the door before we left? What would we have done if something happened while we were gone?”

I grit my teeth.

_Something did happen while we were gone._

Sorrowfully, and painstakingly slow, I opened the door. The smell of fresh wood invaded my senses, just as it had before we left, reminding me of how alive he had seemed.

Aware I'd never see him again in this area, I closed the door and leaned my back onto it, slumping down onto the tile.

Cold and lifeless.

For how lonely it seemed, it was comforting; relieving.

Unopened boxes littered the ground, all symbols of how many packing of his items I would have to do.

Unpacking them was something I dreaded. Painful memories were the only thing they were at the moment.

Every time I looked at his writing on the boxes' sides pained me.

A cold and lingering stream fell down my cheek. In shock, I wiped it away, realizing they were tears.

Lazily, I stood up and carried myself to the couch, throwing my dead weight onto it.

Burrowing into my sweatshirt, I closed my eyes.

…

Knocking that I had a feeling was going to be something I'd have to grow accustomed to woke me up.

Jumping from shock, I ruffled my hair and then yawned.

“I'll be there in a minute.” I yelled out, knowing it wasn't nearly as loud as I expected it to be.

“Hurry up!" They demanded.

Now frustrated, I angrily yelled back, “I'll be there when I'm good and ready, thank you.”

“You're the one who didn't answer my call.” The person mumbled.

Forcing myself to get off of the couch, I jogged over to the door and opened it. I couldn't help but be displeased to see who I had thought it was.

“I didn't answer for a reason,” I muttered, purposely avoiding eye contact while kicking the tile beneath my bare feet.

He sighed, leaning on the frame of the door with folded arms. “It worried me. Usually you're on top of your notifications.”

“How many times did you text me?”

Breaking eye contact, he scratched the back of his head. “As if I remember… Others tried contacting you as well.”

Worried that I had lost track of time, I continued to question him. “How long has it been?”

My suspicions were confirmed as he mumbled, “A week.”

I took a step back in unfiltered shock. “A-A week?!”

“It appears so… We got the news, y'know.” Bouncing off of the door, he leaned down and laid his hand on my shoulder.

I looked up, tears burning my eyes, threatening to fall. “I-I'm so sorry.”

His expression worried, he shook his head. “There's no need for that.”

In an attempt to rub my eyes so the burn would dissipate, instead the burn became much worse. 

_There's no way I'm going to let **him** see my composure break._

“Stop that!” He shrieked, yanking my wrists away and grasping onto them tightly.

Shocked, I nervously stared at him, gritting my teeth.

His face featured with a worried look, he whispered, “You don't need to do that.”

Powering through the pain, I pulled my wrists away from him.

Massaging my right hand wrist, I examined it and snapped, “I'll do whatever I feel comfortable doing. You can leave now.”

He stood up and scoffed, glaring at me from above.

Shakily standing up, I returned the nasty glare. “Tell everyone I'm peachy. I wouldn't want them to worry.”

Slamming the door in my wake, I flopped down onto the couch.

I stared at the blank TV screen, an abnormal experience during this hour.

The silence from the kitchen didn't bring me the comfort I was earnestly searching for.

Usually he would be cooking during this time.

Closed blinds that gave an uninhabited apartment feel left an aching linger in my soul. 

In sudden realization and curiosity, and maybe the hope of an escape, I stood up and walked to the car.

Opening the door, I reached inside for my phone.

Cold, it wasn't much better than the rest of the house.

Tapping the button, I skimmed through my notifications.

He hadn't lied when he said that people were trying to get ahold of me.

Reading through every message that people had sent me in a worried fit and listening to the voicemails sent, I stopped once I reached my saved voicemails.

_His voice. Would it be saved here?_

Tapping the number they required me to tap, the sacred voicemails continued to play.

Sending chills down my spine and tears to my eyes, his voice streamed from the phone.

I covered my mouth.

_He sounds so happy here._

_He sounds so alive._

Despite him ranting about his overseas job, and it being unbelievably annoying, I cherished it all. 

It disgusted, and still irritates me, how poorly he was treated at his job. At the time we were starving for money and it was the best paying job.

With his hard work, we bought the house and he quit his job.

I couldn't be in any more debt to him.

In the bitter realization of how much I took him for granted, guilty streams ran down my face. As they ran down my face and left their dry, salty streaks, I persistently wiped them away.

Persistently trying to wipe them away, they continued to pour.

Eventually, fed up with the constant tears, I ended the call after realizing I hadn't twenty minutes before.

Going on to do what I had originally planned to do, I dialed the scheduler's number at my job. The phone panning on the ringing noise for several seconds, his voice sounded through.

“Hello?”

I cleared my throat. “It's Killua Zoldyck.”

Surprised, he shouted, “Killua?! I haven't seen you here in a while, how are you?”

Nervously laughing, I mumbled, “Yeah, about that. I wanted to request a few weeks off.”

“Why is that?”

I cleared my throat again. “Someone close to me passed.”

Silent for a few moments, his voice was soft. “I'm sorry for your loss.”

“I just need the weeks off, don't worry about me.” I told him, certainly not sure if it was the right thing to say.

Clicking I assumed was from him typing on the keyboard left the speaker of the phone before he spoke again. “Yes, that will be fine. We'll get someone to fill in for your shifts. Take your time recovering.”

Baffled by how easy the whole ideal had turned out to be, I nodded my head. “Alright, thank you.”

“No worries.”

I ended the call.

Leaving my phone on the dashboard, I continued to neglect the people who had tried to get a hold of me just like I had been for the whole week.

_Isolating myself was how I'd get through this; no one needed to see me in this state._

Swinging the car door open, I stepped out, breathing in the fresh air as best as I could.

Nearby pine trees refreshing. The wind whisking through the air kept me somewhat alive. The concrete cold beneath my feet.

With all of these to stimulate my senses, I couldn't shake off the empty feeling.

Pushing the door to the house open, I disappointedly took a step inside.

Only now had I noticed that the ground was littered with empty boxes, in spite of my old belief that they were still filled.

I kicked one, pleased when it fell over.

“Why the hell are there empty boxes all over my house?” I sighed, scratching the back of my head and approaching the couch.

Sitting in the seat, I leaned back.

My mind empty.

Absentmindedly swinging my feet, I found myself staring at the window.

It looked in desperate need for a cleaning.

It looked terrible.

Leaving the scene of the window behind, I directed my attention to the dark screen of the TV. My cold reflection stared back at me.

I hadn't realized how truly terrible I looked.

_Is this what everyone else was seeing?_

_I really hope they didn't._

Despite my appearance being absolutely appalling to my eyes, I couldn't bring myself to take care of it. As much as I desired productivity, the amount of motivation I currently had in my grasp was nothing to brag about.

No wonder why people were worried. I'd be worried too.

Shifting my arms to prop up behind my head, I leaned back and groaned.

…

Awaking without the obnoxious sound of someone knocking on my door left me in a better mood than I had been in before. Slowly opening my eyes, I blinked away the sleep and rubbed it away with my hands.

I stood up, stretching and yawning afterwards.

Glancing over by the front door, I noticed a letter on the floor. In curiosity of what it was, I approached it. Addressed to me, and me only, I glared at it.

Ripping the top of it open, I was surprised to see that it was a funeral service.

Despite how close I was with the entire family, I wasn't included in the process.

Considering how interactive I'd been with the family lately, I took that thought with a grain of salt and began to look over the details.

Relief washed over me once I finished reading the contents and realized they had made all of the choices that I would have made.

However, everything was beginning to slowly sink in. Only a small, contained burn.

_He is gone._

_And I am here._

_A service dedicated to him was being arranged. People were invited, including myself._

Seeing him alive— tangible— were all out of my reach.

To steady my breathing, I closed my eyes and focused on inhaling and exhaling.

Content with how everything was going, I picked up my phone from the cushion of the couch. Dialing his aunt's number. After several rings, she quietly picked up, saying “Hello?”

“Hello.” I mumbled awkwardly.

Gasping, she bursted with anger, “I haven't heard from you in so long! What were you thinking?!” Scolding me through the phone.

With, what I could imagine, a solemn smile across my face, I leaned into my shoulder. “I don't know. I'm sorry for making you worry.”

“You should be! You put me through the stress of arranging everything without him. You spent the most time with him!”

Unsure of what to say, I continued with my apologies. “I know. I'm sorry.”

Her voice wavering as she spoke, she stated, “You should be. You should be.”

Looking up, staring at the plain ceiling, I agreed with her. “I know. I am.”

Quietly sobbing on the other side, with a broken voice she continued to mumble “You should.”

And all I could do was agree with her silently.

…

Just as boring as the rest of the days, when I woke up I continued the same schedule I had been running on for the entire week. With motivation running extremely scarce, the most I could do was stare at the blank screen my TV reflected on back to me.

Awareness of everything that I should have been doing added guilt onto my back.

The service slowly moving up on the calendar every day was antagonizing. The only thing the approaching date did was remind me how long I had been living without him by my side.

But most of all, it made me wonder how I ever survived without him. As time went by, I had only gained a more prominent feeling of being lost.

Grabbing the side of my head, I leaned over the arm of the sofa. Daringly, I took a glance into the art room.

Noticing something peculiar on the floor, I pushed myself off of the couch and brushed my clothes off. 

Slowly inching towards the mysterious object, every step I took closer to the forbidden art room became increasingly frightening.

The unspoken pact I made with myself to avoid the art room until I was able to go enter it without having a breakdown was gradually fading away as curiosity lured me further into the room. Stopping at the door, I placed my hands on each end of the door.

Staring down at the item, it in my reach, I quickly grabbed it and pulled it towards me.

In his handwritten script sat my name atop of the paper.

A note.

Bewildered by it, I unfolded it, startled once skimming over its contents.

Deciding the writing on the paper was certainly his handwritten, being sloppy and unkept. For being so artistic, his handwriting was nothing to brag about. Chicken scratch, if you would.

I gathered up the courage and began to read the letter. His writing barely legible, the task proved itself difficult. However, once I finished the letter, I couldn't help but set it down on the desk where all his paints were gathered and take a moment for myself.

Completely shocked by the letter, my breath started to lose its steady rhythm. Carefully, I succeeded in walking out to the living room and taking a seat on the couch.

_That was not what I needed nor what I was expecting._

Betrayal— or lack of clear communication— especially from him, was not something I was accustomed to.

For how long he kept this news secret, I had no idea. However, now that he was gone, it would be my job to carry it out.

“Which one, though?” I mumbled under my breath with my chin propped up on my clenched fist.

His room being filled to the brim with different paintings, all of which had various meanings, I had no clue which one would have earned him such a title. Intrigued more than I would have liked to be, I abruptly stood up. Once again sneaking my way into the room, despite telling myself not to, I opened the note and read it.

Proud to see that he had thought far enough to write down a number, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and dialed the number written on the page.

Unsteady and monotone dial tones never failed to make me nervous. After so many rings, my call was transferred to their voicemail.

Panicking, I shouted, “Hello! Uhh, my name is Killua Zoldyck, and I am calling in place of Gon Freecss. I'd like to discuss your offer.” Mumbling my phone number in between those areas, I ended the call.

My heart racing a mile a minute, I let my phone slide out of my grip. It fell onto the soft cushion with a small thud. “I-I can't believe I just did that.”

The occasion finally setting in, I peered into his room. The paintings I had once thought to be okay now held much more of a value to me.

I don't want to give any of his pieces away.

Jumping as my phone began to ring, I swiped to the right, neglecting to read the caller ID in the process.

“Hello?”

“Hello. May I speak with Mr. Zoldyck.”

“Speaking,” I stated, nervously.

“Hello! How are you?” The woman questioned, however not sounding very interested in how I was feeling at all.

I cleared my throat. “I- um. I'm okay. How are y—”

Swiftly cutting me off, she sweetly declared, “I'm glad to hear that.” Hesitating for a few moments, she came back with a question. “May I ask where Mr. Freecss is?”

Utterly unprepared for that question, I surfed my fingers across the collar of my shirt as a nervous habit. “Well, uh, he's… Passed on.”

Silent for a few seconds, she gasped. “I'm so sorry for your loss.”

Once again, I cleared my throat. “No, it's-it's fine.”

“I'm assuming you called about the opportunity?”

“Yes!” I shouted, overly enthusiastic about leaving the other topic. “About that, which painting were you interested in?”

“Well, we left that decision up to him.”

Confused on why they would let an obvious idiot such as him take on a heavy decision such as that, I unintentionally mockingly muttered, “Okay,” under my breath.

“Will you be taking his place?” She asked.

The question sent me into a mini crisis, bringing upon other questions to dwell upon.

_Will I be taking his place?_

_Does this mean he's really gone?_

_There's no way I'm ever going to see him again?_

“Hello?”

Engulfed in my own thoughts, I slightly jumped when she spoke. Swallowing down any doubts I had, I prematurely accepted the reality of it.

“Yes, I will.”

A clap of hands sounded as she fawned over me. “I'm so glad to hear that!”

Other's happiness gave me no such reciprocation, as it usually would.

Her cheering, excitement, and awe only sent me further into a bubble of confusion.

_This is my task now._

_This is my task now._

Repetitive as they were, the topic proved extremely difficult to change. On repeat. Over and over again. Those same words.

_This is my task now._

“Wow…”

Her tone sounding mildly worried, she asked, “Are you alright?” The knowledge that she most likely didn't care steered my actions: in the end, it was all just a business exchange.

I cleared my throat as a way to direct myself back into the present. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“No worries! When would you like to set the date for?”

The funeral in the back of my mind, I knew what date it would be for. As I gave her the date, wrote it down in my calendar, and sent her on her way, I couldn't help but feel more disorganized.

All of the planning I had done, and yet the feeling that I was doing something wrong continued to fester within.

The creations in which he made. None of them belonged to me. But somehow I ended up with the burden of doing what he should have.

Every piece representing his perseverance— his grit— yet here I was, taking credit for it.

_Would I get paid for doing this?_

_I hope not._

_I don't want it. It's going to Mito if they do give me money._

My calendar, once blank, now seeming with more liveliness than ever. In the most terrible way.

“Why would you keep this secret from me?”

_Which painting would he take? His favorite? No, that's too much of a self-centered decision for him._

I ran my fingers through my hair. Leaning back in the chair, I skimmed through all of his works. 

Emotionally taking in every single thing that had occured since the beginning of the month, I stood up.

_I need to take a fucking shower._

…

Waking up with more motivation, which had become slightly foreign, didn't fail to make me even just a little bit more happier than I had been.

Knowing the fridge would be a national famine, I hesitated going to check it. Slowly approaching it, I nervously reached out for the handle and pulled it open quickly. Sadly, as I had suspected, there was nothing of nutritional value stored in this worthless metal box.

Sighing, I scratched the back of my head before slamming the door shut.

“I really don't want to go to the store,” I mumbled to myself while getting ready to go to the store.

Hopping in my car and preparing it to leave, I started my way down the street to the store. Once in traffic, I was surprised by how much restraint I had. Normally the way people recklessly drove would irritate me, but somehow, no matter how many times I almost died, I felt peaceful.

Pulling up to the parking lot, I sighed. “I already don't want to be here.”

Taking my key out of the ignition, I slipped it into my pocket and opened the car door.

Happily, I inhaled the fresh air.

I walked from my car into the store, overwhelmed by the amount of items I needed to get after neglecting my supplies for so long.

…

Dragging groceries, among other things, back to my car, I smiled proudly.

“This is great progress, in my opinion.” I muttered to myself, packing the items into my car. Once done, I left the cart in the cart drop-off area due to common courtesy.

Finally arriving at my house, with great care, I carried everything into my house and displayed the items across my counter.

Knowing I had little knowledge on how to cook, I settled for making a sandwich.

Quite pleased with what I had done for the day, I still ended up staring out of the living room window from the couch. Less guilty, of course, but I couldn't seem to get myself going for more than what I felt motivated to do.

Zoning out in the midst of his paintings.

Lately, it seemed like my favorite thing to do. Before, I had never noticed the individual streaks and especially ignored how much time he had truly thrown into each work. Now, after spending so much time admiring them, I had truly begun to understand them.

From my perspective, the meanings varied, but each one meant something significant.

Set on the fact that I'd much rather be gazing at the paintings than sitting alone in a seat, I pushed myself off of the couch. Dragging myself into the art room, I sat down in the swivel chair and spun 360 degrees once, halting the position.

Serenity in each painting is what I found.

Increasingly becoming more tranquil with every passing second, I slumped into the chair and relaxed.

…

I didn't plan to fall asleep on the chair, but after thinking about it, I realized that I wouldn't have fallen asleep anywhere else.

Grabbing my phone to check the calendar, I yawned in the process, dropping it.

Earnestly picking it up, I dusted it off, moving on to continuing my task.

Landing on today's date and what I had planned for the day, I sighed and ran my fingers through my hair.

“I planned this before he passed… I really don't want to do this…”

With the thought that it would be rude to just cancel steadily lingering in the back of my head, I texted the person in high hopes that maybe today they didn't feel like participating in anything either.

Waiting for a person to respond back on text was my least favorite activity. Occasionally stressful, and indefinitely boring. I hated lazing around and waiting for someone's response like a cat meowing at a door for someone to let them in when no one was home.

Sadly, I already knew what answer they'd give back. And with that knowledge, I carried myself into my room to get ready.

…

Content with how I looked for once, the thought to check my phone again had finally crossed my mind.

Irritated, I smirked when they had replied that the plans were still up for today.

Texting them that I was on my way, I started up my car and drove to the cafe they said to meet up at.

Arriving at the cafe and seeing the amount of people circulating around the area, I stayed in my car for a few more minutes.

_Why?_

_I don't know._

My phone vibrating, I turned down to look at it.

‘ _I'm here_.’

“Ugh, why?!” I softly yelled to myself, swinging the car door open.

Slamming it shut, I angrily walked into the cafe, realizing I should have masked my displeasure a little better when he rushed up to me, arms wide open and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Y-yeah. I'm just… I'm fine!” I told him insincerely, patting his right shoulder with a smile on my face.

_Was it genuine?_

_Of course not._

Embracing him in a hug of which I had no desire for in any way, he pulled back with a smile on his face. “How have you been?”

“You want the blunt answer or the sugar-coated one?” I jokingly asked.

Seriously, he stated, “The blunt one.”

I looked away and sighed. “Just peachy.”

“Don't lie.”

I tilted my head and crossed my arms. “What are you going to be able to do about it, anyways? I'm quite content with how I am now.”

Scratching his neck, he turned away. “I suppose you're right there.”

Grinning, I pointed to myself. “Of course I am.”

“Whatever you say.”

Leading me to a table in the middle of the cafe, I laughed. “Law states we have to sit by a window table.”

Confused, he raised an eyebrow and muttered, “What? Have you gone mad finally?”

I frowned. “Thank you, but not quite. Nevermind.”

“Whatever.”

Sliding the seat out from under the table, I kneeled onto it. He followed my actions, leaning forward and interlocking his fingers with each other.

“So, how have you been?”

Rolling my eyes, I turned away. “You already asked that.”

“Just seeing if the answer would change.”

Frustrated with his constant prying, I spat out, “Do you want me to be depressed?”

“Do I?” He asked, a completely shameless smile painted across his face.

I hesitated. “Do you?”

He snickered. “Of course not. I'd much rather see you full of sarcastic comments than what you were before.”

“Good, because this is all I have to give at the moment.” I crossed my arms and stuck my nose in the air.

“I'm glad to hear that.” He stated, raising his hand.

Looking alive at the sight of his hand, the waitress perked up and walked to our table, geared with a notepad. “How can I help you two today?”

Smiling, he skimmed over his menu, relaying his order back to her.

She turned to me. “And what would you like?”

Without any knowledge of what the menu had simply because I chose not to look through it, I nervously asked, “Do you have tea?”

“What kind would you like?”

Panicking, I threw out, “Green!”

“Will that be it for you two?”

Nodding at me, I nodded back. He turned back to her with the most disgusting and charming smile. “Yes, thank you.”

She walked back to her station.

I sighed. “I hate green tea, y'know.”

“Then why did you—”

“I panicked, maybe just a little bit,” I admittedly stated, with pinched fingers.

Rolling his eyes just as I often do, he shook his head in disapproval. “Well, too bad.” Covering his mouth with his hand, he curled into a ball, laughing.

“Why did I meet you here again?” I asked in genuine curiosity.

“Because you love me.” He lied, deadpanning.

“Oh… I'd like to disagree with that.”

He waved his hand. “Yeah, we know. You only have eyes for one person.”

I took a sip of the tea, scrunching my nose and raising the glass to inspect it, halfheartedly stating, “Glad to know that you still remember.”

“How could I forget?” He asked, a challenging grin plastered across his irritating features.

…

_Standing behind the building, the wind briskly whisked through my hair._

_I took a step away from him. “Since when?”_

_Looking down to count on his fingers, he looked back up. “I don't know! As if I would keep count of something like that.”_

_“Why?” I asked, not entirely in search of a response._

_“Do I need a reason why?”_

_“Given the circumstances, it brings upon the question. So… Yes.”_

_“I don't know why.” He deadpanned. Leaning onto the brink wall, he slid down and relaxed, folding his arms behind his head._

_“I'm sorry about that,” I mumbled, walking next to him and slumping down the wall as well._

_Turning away, he muttered, “I don't need your pity.”_

_“Unfortunately, I have nothing else to give you.” Bringing my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms around them._

_Sighing, he slapped his face with both of his hands. Through a squished face he declared, “All I need is your friendship!”_

_I stifled my laughter by covering my mouth with my hand. “That wouldn't have changed anyways.”_

_“I'm glad to hear that, y'know.”_

_Pleased to know he was somewhat relieved, I lifted my head. “Good.”_

_“Why can't we go out?” He asked, propping his chin on his clenched fist._

_The trees shaking in the distance captivated my attention for a quick moment. Lazily, I mumbled, “I only have eyes for him, at the moment.”_

_With a solemn smile, he choked out, “I thought so.”_

…

Dazed, I was forcibly snapped out of my reminiscing when he waved his hand past my face.

“What do you want?”

Pouting, he tilted his head. “Your attention.”

“Oh please, I don't want you to have it.” Taking a sip of the tea after ignoring it for so long, I gagged. “Hand me the sugar. Just give me all the packets.”

Sliding the bin over to me, I ripped three packets open and let them pour into the drink. After stirring it, I tasted the tea. Still disgusted by the bitter taste, I opened three more packets and followed through with the same process.

Testing it once again, I was still dissatisfied with the taste. However, the minimal bitterness was a much more tolerable taste.

“Are you okay?”

Glaring at him, I raised the abomination of a tea. “Leave me alone.”

“I remember you being salty, but not like this.” He muttered under his breath, looking away and whistling.

“Honestly, I don't recall you being this annoying, yet here we are.”

“Touché.”

Agreeing with him for the first time since we arrived at the cafe, I took a sip of the green tea I didn't want but asked for in a rushed panic.

Silence is said to be a lonely thing, but I felt tranquil not having to hear his smart remarks. Despite trying to convince myself I'd rather be alone, having someone to be around, even if it was just him, felt comforting.

His awful giggling brought me out of my trance.

Irritated, I looked up from my drink. “What are you laughing at?”

He pointed at me, his finger trembling from laughing. “Your terrible smile.” Imitating what my smile looked like from his point of view, he threw his head back, more amused than ever.

“Well then, I think it's time for me to go somewhere that I actually enjoy being.” Grabbing the repulsive tea, I stood up.

Shifting the mood, he swung himself back. “Wait!”

Sipping the tea, I hummed.

Pausing for a moment, he tapped the table. “Nothing, nothing. Just wanted to see if you would stop.”

“Anyways,” I irritatedly transitioned, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Thank you for inviting me. I am grateful to be leaving here with the reason of why I never liked you fresh on my mind.”

Remorsefully, he muttered, “Wish I could say the same.”

Hesitant on exiting the area or consoling him, I stood in the middle of the shop. I didn't fail to notice people's inquisitive eyes on me as I contemplated.

Knowing I could say nothing to help him, I continued to walk.

Refusing to go back to my car so early, I began to head toward the library.

The air cold and crisp, I regretted not bringing a hoodie. Averting unnecessary contact while walking, I finally arrived at the library.

I pushed the door open. Suddenly alert, the librarian smiled, bowing their head.

I nodded my head in response and walked to a random aisle. Never had being in this library before, I looked over all of the titles.

My interest in any of them not being even slightly intrigued, I walked out. The librarian waved me good-bye and I smiled back.

“Why the fuck did I choose to go to a library?” I remarked under my breath, quickly walking back to my car.

Unlocking it, I stepped inside.

Still reluctant to drive home, I leaned halfway through the car and halfway out.

A short moment of serenity; I took the moment and nice weather in.

Time had seemed to pause for only a second, leaving me dazed and a little bit confused. I pulled the rest of my body into the car and shut the door, starting the drive back to my house.

The traffic was especially calm today, leaving me feeling zen. Or at least the most peaceful I had felt all week.

Once at my “humble” abode, I jumped out of the car and locked it. For a moment, standing right outside of the car, I recalled the events that happened. They left me feeling quite proud of myself. Perhaps not the best because I owed my happiness from today to that asshole. However, the happiness was still present.

With a little bit more pep in my step than I felt was the new usual, I pranced towards the door.

Realizing I left it unlocked after turning the knob, I cursed to myself under my breath.

_I'm just as bad as he is._

I opened the door, slowly stepping inside.

After being absent for so long, the smell of oil and acrylic paints was extremely overwhelming. Leaving the door open so as to let the house vent, I led myself to the office room.

Once again finding myself inevitably trapped in the details of the paintings, I closed my eyes.

…

Alarm blaring, startling me awake with a mini heart attack, I fell out of the swivel chair.

Remembering that I had fallen asleep in the office, I exhaled calmly.

Dusting myself off and using my knee as a prop to help myself up. Checking the date, I sighed.

_I really don't want to do this._

Unsteadily walking up the stairs and tripping several times, I made it to my closet. Finding the outfit I had chosen for today's occasion, I zoned out in the midst of the outfit.

Dawning on me that this really was the reality I was thrown into, I ran my fingers across the stitch lines of the suit.

Black: a color reserved for mourning.

There was no liveliness shown in such a color; it truly did represent the death of a person and the loss others felt in accordance.

_I would never see him in the flesh again. After this, he was truly gone._

All of the progress I was so proud of for making had seemed to amount to nothing after the epiphany I made.

Empty, I looked up to avoid the threatening tears.

_I couldn't let anyone see me in such a manner._

Despite what I had tried to convince myself, the tears had found their way out of my blocks. Burning as they fell, I threw my head back, embracing the sadness.

Leaving trails down my chin, irritating my skin.

Flashes of all the moments we had not allowing me to forget what we'd gone through together.

All of the happiness we had felt, all of the joy— all of the memories had bursted from where I had locked them away.

For the first time, I had truly expressed every single emotion I had experienced after his passing.

Each one was unique and brought more tears.

Realizing I was getting tears on the suit, I placed it on the floor, away from myself.

My conscience being flooded with questions instead of various memories, the tears began to cease in overproduction.

With a shaky breath, I inhaled. Exhaled. And inhaled.

Gaining everything that was lost for a short moment, I stood up. I leaned down to grab the suit, the tears still stained on the jacket.

Wearily walking into the bathroom, I stared at my reflection.

Beat; rough; terrible.

It didn't look presentable in the least.

Hanging the suit on the door, I leaned back into the bathroom and turned the faucet to cold. Emotionless letting it run for a few seconds.

After reviving myself once again, I cupped my hands and let the freezing water run over them. I splashed the water onto my face, turning to look at my reflection once again.

Less terrible than before. Not lively enough.

Styling my hair to what I desired it to be, I glanced at the mirror once again. My being regaining life bit by bit. Brushing my teeth, changing my clothes, and taking care of myself like I should.

Looking presentable on the outside, the contrast I felt on the inside was exponential.

Ready to live life as it was, I picked up my phone and dialed his aunt's number.

Each ring that passed brought a more nervous tension.

After a few rings, her small voice answered. “Hello?”

“Hey,” I mumbled, at a loss for words.

The silence lingered a few minutes before her voice turned sweet and caring. “How are you?”

Smiling, I nodded my head halfheartedly. “I should be asking you that. I'm well.”

“As am I.” She assured me.

Not completely convinced by her statement, I decided to leave it alone.

“Are you still going?” She asked.

Fully dressed and ready to go at any moment, I said, “Yes.”

“I'm glad to hear that.”

I nodded my head.

“Well then,” she started. “See you there.”

“See you there.” I let her hang up. Once she did, I put my phone on sleep.

I bounced down the stairs, a goal in mind.

At the office, I walked into the room, glancing over all of the paintings.

“They really want me to choose just one painting,” I muttered to myself angrily, knowing they were each equally valuable.

…

_Knocking on the door to his horrid office, I patiently waited._

_“You know you can just walk in. It's not like I want to keep you out, I'd much rather have your company.”_

_Grinning, I opened the door. “I don't want to disturb you!”_

_Scoffing, he rolled his eyes. “You don't even like my art.”_

_Snickering, I sneaked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist. “Yeah, that's because they suck.”_

_Laughing for a moment with me, he shoved my arms away from him and turned around._

_Suddenly serious, he wrapped his arms around my waist. Rather childishly, he muttered, “You can't just judge a painting. That's someone's perception— their view.”_

_Snickering at his act, I pat his head. “I know, I know.”_

…

With the knowledge that he bestowed upon me, I frowned knowing that I didn't have it in me to pick a favorite.

Trying to figure out a way to pick a single painting, I imagined how he would do it. I slammed my fist into my open palm in an abrupt epiphany.

Outstretching both of my arms, I began to spin in a circle.

I kept spinning.

Spinning.

Spinning.

Until I felt I couldn't stand upright anymore. Stopping the sudden motion, the dizziness caught up to me, causing me to lose my balance. 

Tripping over my feet, I fell onto my side. Groaning from the pain, I held my head.

Once the room had stopped spinning in circles, I looked at the painting in front of me.

“Well then, that's it.”

Unhinging it from it's hooks on the wall, I began to observe it.

_It really was an amazing piece._

Popping my head out of the room, I glanced around the living area for the time.

_10:35._

_Shit. The service is at 11._

Carefully carrying the piece, I ran up the stairs to grab my phone.

Once I had it, I sprinted back down the stairs and out the door. This time purposefully leaving the door unlocked.

I placed the painting in the back seat neatly, rushing to start the car and get going.

Patiently waiting in traffic was not my niche, despite my attempt at trying to trick myself into thinking that.

Tapping my index finger on the wheel, I bounced my left leg.

The red light took its own sweet time to change to green, but once it did, I felt strangely nervous.

I turned to the memorial area. Being a place for saying good-bye, it looked like it was a meet and greet area.

Checking the time on my phone, I cursed and opened the door, running to the area the invite said to meet up.

Seeing less people than I had previously imagined gathered, a little bit of a weight lifted off of my chest.

There was one person I did want to see, though.

Searching across the crowd for her vibrant hair, once I found it, I jogged to her.

“Mito!" I yelled out to her.

She turned around. Her expression completely shocked when she realized it was me, she opened her arms.

Running faster, I tightly wrapped my arms around her waist once I got close enough.

Squeezing me in return, she began to choke up.

Resisting my own tears, I pat her back instead.

Letting her cry was the most I could do. For her, and for myself.

Wiping her eyes and fixing her dress, she looked back up at me. “I'm glad to see you here.”

“I'm glad to see you as well.”

Reaching for her bag that she had dropped, I picked it up and handed it to her.

She thanked me, turning away.

I nodded, feeling quite alone after she left my side.

“Hey!”

I turned in the direction of the voice. Gasping, I walked forward. “I didn't expect to see you here.”

“Honestly, I didn't plan on attending.”

Slightly offended, I rolled my eyes. “Then why did you?”

Hesitating, while staring at the grass, he clicked his tongue. “I couldn't let myself ignore it.”

With a slight smile, I held out my hand. “I appreciate it.”

He accepted the gesture and shook my hand once. “Don't thank me.”

“Then I won't,” I reassured him, pulling my hand away from his.

He looked away, folding his arms.

I snorted. “So how have you been?”

Looking back and forth between me and the earth we both stood on, he lightly kicked the ground. “Alright.”

Slamming my hand onto my face, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Could you at least _try_ lying? Y'know, if you're going to lie.”

Quiet for a few moments, he groaned. “I'll be fine. Work on yourself.”

Pointing my finger and grimacing, I bounced it a few times. “I'll take your word on that.”

Scoffing, he smirked. “You better.”

Noticing everyone gathering together, we followed to where they were grouping. With a small line of us together, everyone began to say their good-byes.

I lagged behind in the group on purpose. It didn't please me to see everyone so sad, and I certainly didn't want to watch them.

Ignoring the ones that I cared about while they cried, I stared at the grass beneath my feet. Patches of dead grass were apparent, but in a way, it was complimenting.

Hearing others sobs was disheartening, to say the least.

Finally in front of his casket, my stomach began to twist.

_This is real._

_I'm never going to see him again._

The wood clean and fresh, I laid my hand on it.

…

_“Can you hurry up?” He begged, sprinting back and forth from me and the destination while I took my time._

_I waved my hand and groaned. “We're almost there, calm down.”_

_Sliding down the grass hill, we abruptly stopped at the river._

_“Pfft, is this it?” I asked, looking over the stream to see if there was anything else that was anymore interesting._

_Tapping my arm with his fist, he frowned. “Yes, this is it.”_

_“How'd you know this was here?” I asked._

_“The internet does wonders.”_

_I nodded my head in agreement. “That it does.”_

_Leaning down, I let the rushing water submerge my hand. Cold and too fast for swimming, I brought my now freezing hand back up and shook it off._

_“It's for the scenery.” He snapped, crouching down into a sitting position._

_I clicked my tongue. “Oh, is that what it is.”_

_He lamely said, now laying down, sprawled out across the grass, “Yep.”_

_I joined him in laying on the grass, my arms folded to cushion the back of my head._

_The sun going down during a cliché moment made me laugh._

_Turning to me, he raised an eyebrow. “What's so funny?”_

_Clearing my throat, I pointed to the sinking sun. “I was just thinking about how cliché of us this is.”_

_He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders. “So be it.”_

_“So be it,” I repeated, much more quietly._

_Tracing the shapes of the clouds for so long, I sighed. “What are you thinking about?”_

_“Where do you think we go after death?”_

_Choking on the air, I leaned forward. “What the hell?”_

_“I'm serious!”_

_Throwing my hand up, I waved it. “No, I know you are. But what the fuck?”_

_Puffing out his cheeks, he turned to face the opposite direction. “You're the one who asked.”_

_“Yeah,” I deadpanned. “You're right about that.”_

_Silent for a few seconds, he rolled onto his side to face me. “So what do you think?”_

_Clouds that resembled a dying fire were what I was thinking about. “I don't know. I've never been… What do you think?”_

_Thrusting his hands into the air, he shouted, “I think that it'll be boring! Especially if you're not there.”_

_Grinning, I leaned closer to him. “Oh yeah, and what if I am there?”_

_“You're not going there. End of story.”_

_“Not even with you?” I probed._

_“Nope.” He declared, overly confident. “Eternal life is your curse, courtesy of me.”_

_Feigning a gag, I rolled my eyes. “I don't want it.”_

_His expression turned concerned. “But it's all I have.”_

_Sticking my nose in the air, I folded my arms. As childish as it was, it was a serious matter to me. “You can keep it because you're not allowed to leave my side yet.”_

_Sighing, he dropped his arms. “Alright then.”_

…

“I don't know what comes after death,” I began, my vision blurring. “But I find myself inclined to believe that you're doing well, wherever you are.” I ignored my cracked tone.

Flicking the tears away, I slowly walked over to the vase of white roses, grabbing one, and walking back.

“This'll be useless to you, but,” I placed the rose on his casket, “I'll leave it here for you.”

Counting the number of roses laid on the surface, I smiled. “I hope you realize how many people loved you.”

With that as my final farewell, I left him behind.

A loneliness lurked within now. The feeling was overwhelming, and the realization brought upon the threat of tears.

Isolating myself from the crowd, I ended up in the memorial lobby.

Covering my mouth, subtly, I let the tears stream down my face.

To think I would still be crying like this after all of this time.

Footsteps sounding, I quickly stood up, nervously steadying my shaky breaths. Rubbing my eyes, I moved on to fixing my clothes.

Unconfident in how calm I looked, I averted eye contact from where the person would be walking in from.

The sound of footsteps stopped, and in their place was a voice. “What are you doing in here?”

Recognizing the voice, I looked up. “Mito?” Slowly stepping towards her, I wrapped my arms around her.

As she pat my back, everything I had been holding inside began to burst.

Guilty as I felt about it, I couldn't stop the flow of tears.

“I had no idea you were this emotional.” She mumbled, a low whisper.

I ignored it.

She was right.

…

Waving everyone a farewell, I stepped outside of the gates.

I examined the marigolds that lined the flowerbeds set by the gates one last time, leaving behind the area. Once officially exiting the area, I knew this lingering emptiness in my heart would be everlasting as I continued to move forward.

Grabbing my keys from within my pocket, I unlocked the car, leaning inside to check if the painting was still intact.

Relieved to see that it was, I drove to the address the lady on the phone had given me.

Mildly nervous, I bounced one of my legs while pressing the gas pedal with the other.

On the street of the exhibit, once pulling into the driveway and stopping the car, I had to take a moment and stare at the building in pure awe.

It resembled a much more modern version of a cathedral.

Pleased to know that he wasn't entirely an idiot, I stepped out of the car and inhaled the somewhat refreshing air.

A desolate area with little cars, it gave me some level tranquility.

Opening the back passenger door, I lifted the painting off of the seat. Dusting it off one more time and checking for any impurities, I felt quite content with my random choice.

With a confident, or what I assumed confident, stride, I pushed open the doors.

The very first room from the entrance resembled a clerk desk. Having no sense of direction, I approached the area.

“H-Hello?” I stuttered out, retaining that nervousness I thought I had hoped I had lost.

The lady looked up from her computer, her manner rather unwelcoming. “Name?”

“Killua. Zoldyck.” I continued to anxiously stumble, “Killua Zoldyck.”

Typing on the keyboard, with a seemingly forced smile, she said, “I see your name on the schedule. She'll be with you shortly.”

“Thank you,” I hastily mumbled out.

She hummed, averting her attention back to the desktop.

Awkwardly, I waited at the desk. Tapping my foot.

Transitioning to rotating on my right foot, I tried peering at the nearby works.

Hard to understand and completely abstract. They were nice.

I observed his painting.

“But this one's my favorite.” I whispered to myself.

“What's that?” The clerk asked.

Keeping my eyes locked on the painting, I raised my right hand and waved it. I shook my head. “It's nothing.”

Jogging across the tile, the woman I assumed that had called me quickly approached. She waved her hand as if I couldn't see her obnoxious stride. “Killua!”

I took a step back, gripping onto the piece tighter. “Hi.”

In front of me, she leaned over and panted, raising her hand. “I've been looking forward to this.”

_I bet you have._

“Is that so? I'm… Excited to hear that.”

Springing up, she held out her hands. “I'd like to see what you chose.”

Suspiciously eyeing her, I laid it out for her to grab.

_She seems like the clumsy type._

_If she drops it I'll go insane._

“Well, I like it!” She shouted, shoving it back into my arms.

I grimaced at her reckless actions. “Y-Yeah.”

Clapping her hands a single time, she gestured for me to follow her. “We have an area set up already!”

_How the hell did you know the dimensions?_

Following her, I tightly held the painting by my side.

Passing all of the different varieties of antiques, I got distracted by a few, in which she had to redirect me.

In front of the area she had chosen, she threw out her arms. “Here it is!”

Next to many works, I gawked at them. “Whoa…” I lazily mumbled in awe.

She smiled. “I know!”

“Wh-Whoa… Is this real?”

She laughed awkwardly. “As real as can be.”

Stepping back, I held up the painting to picture it with the others. “It works too well.”

I swallowed down the guilt I had.

“We already set up the hooks for you.”

“How did you know the dimensions?”

She gasped. “He never told you? We talked about this previously with Mr. Freecss himself. All of his works are the same size, correct?” She asked, looking at the set up area and back at the painting.

“Y-Yeah.” I said, shocked.

…

_“You want to start painting?”_

_“Yeah!” He shouted. “I've always had a knack for it.” He continued, much more calm about it._

_Somewhat betrayed by him for not telling me, I tested him. “Why am I just hearing about it now?”_

_“You never asked.” He turned away._

_Nervously laughing, I scratched the back of my head. “Well… I don't mind. As long as they're not terrible.”_

_“Of course not. I made them.”_

_Glancing around the room, I ended up back at his point of view. “I don't know how we'll afford all of the supplies.”_

_Snickering, he covered his mouth with his hand. “I already bought some canvases.”_

_Slamming my fist on the table, I stood up. “Are you an idiot? Do you think we can afford that?”_

_Following my action, he slammed his open hand on the table. “I'm not stupid. They were on sale!”_

_“Oh.” I awkwardly said, sitting back down. He also sat back down, smiling._

_“They were all the same size… But they'll have to do.”_

_I sighed. “We can get different sized ones once we're able to afford some.”_

…

Gazing at the wall for a little longer, she bounced up and down on her legs. “Well! I'm excited to see!”

Walking forward slowly, I muttered, “A-Alright.”

Raising the painting, I carefully placed it on the hooks.

Standing back, the lady put a hand over her mouth and gasped. “Perfect.”

I joined her.

It really couldn't have been any more perfect.

Tears gathering in my eyes, I looked away. “Thank you.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the longest, most dramatic anything I've ever published... So if you're reading this, I admire your tenacity.


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